


Moved to Distraction

by sable_tyger (orphan_account)



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F, Pre-Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:37:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sable_tyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bolin brings another one of his many fans to watch the team practice, but it turns out there’s someone else Asami is really there to see. <em>pre-Korra/Asami</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Moved to Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> So as soon as Asami is actually introduced on the show this will likely be completely non-canon compliant. I won't tell if you don't.

“You have _got_ to be kidding me, Bolin.” Mako is frowning severely—which, Korra has to admit, is only slightly different from his usual expression, which is a sort of weary half-grimace directed in her direction more often than not. But Mako rarely frowns like this at Bolin; as much as Bolin might exasperate him, there is a gentleness in Mako’s face whenever he regards his little brother.

Not at the moment, though. “It’s bad enough you bring them to the matches,” Mako says, his voice quickly disintegrating into a scowl. “It’s bad enough that you bring them _home._ But the tournament’s in a few days, and we can’t afford any distractions during practice. Especially considering Korra’s still not on top of her game.”

“You just had to throw that in there, didn’t you?” Korra asks. 

Mako’s expression doesn’t soften. “Don’t you ever _think_ before doing something like this?” he demands. “How hard is it to step back and realize, _hey, this might not be the best idea ever, why don’t I ask Mako about it first?”_

Bolin doesn’t say anything, simply pulls his arm away from the girl he’d brought with him, carefully looking anywhere but at Mako.

“Hey.” Korra steps between them, which earns her another dark look from Mako. She doesn’t care, for once—she’s never seen Mako treat Bolin this way, and she isn’t interested in watching it continue. “It’s not a big deal, Mako, all right? If I can’t practice with one extra person in the room, how do you expect me to keep it together during the actual tournament in a stadium full of screaming fans?”

Mako’s hands close into fists at his sides. “Fine,” he says, like he doesn’t care. “Just don’t blame me when you lose us the tournament.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Korra leans towards Bolin and puts her hands on his shoulders. He smiles at her gratefully, his green eyes losing their tenseness around the edges. “Why don’t you introduce me to your friend here, Bolin?”

“Her name’s Asami,” Bolin says, and glances at her.

Asami steps forward and holds out her hand to Korra, watching her steadily. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says, her voice like water, cool and fluid. She doesn’t talk like Mako and Bolin—there’s something distinctly upper-class about her diction. “I’m a huge pro-bending fan. I hardly even knew what to think when you came onto the court and started bending half the elements.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll be sticking to just the one now.” Korra shakes her hand. Asami’s touch is firm, measured. From the way Asami is standing—her stance strong, her shoulders back and her chin up—Korra would be willing to bet that she could hold her own in a pro-bending match.

Asami smiles and tucks a curl of her long hair behind her ear. “Well, don’t let me keep you,” she says. “I’m only here to watch, not get in the way.”

 _“Anywhere_ is in the way,” Mako grumbles, but falls silent when Korra glares at him.

“Come on, Sir Grumps.” Korra circles away from Bolin and Asami and around Mako, angling her body from him to present a smaller target. “Have to make sure I don’t _lose_ our next pro-bending match.”

Mako glances away—perhaps he’s considering apologizing—but Korra doesn’t need to hear it. Before he can react, she’s already bending the water in the containers prepared for her and forcing Mako out of their makeshift ring. He stumbles and falls, hard, as Bolin and Asami cheer.

The match ends in a tie, with neither of them able to break it. Eventually Korra taps out, her arms aching with exhaustion, and falls back against the side of ring.

“Here.” Asami hands Korra a cup of water that she downs in about a second, hardly noticing when Asami helpfully pushes her hair out of her eyes as she drinks.

“Bolin’s turn,” Mako says, stripping off his bracers and flexing his wrists with a grimace.

Korra grins at him. “Knew you couldn’t take it,” she says, and passes the cup back to Asami. Asami winks at her, her mouth curled into a small smile—one that Korra might have missed had she not been looking for it. There is something she can’t quite figure out about this girl; at first Korra had thought Asami held herself like a fighter, but there is something unstated about her stance, something indiscernible, that gives Korra pause. 

“Better get back out there,” Asami says, tilting her chin towards Bolin. Her eyes are bright.

A stone explodes somewhere over Korra’s head, and she ducks. “Good call!” she shouts over her shoulder before descending on Bolin, still grinning. He grins back at her. Sparring with Bolin is always like this: good-natured and fun, as opposed to Mako’s quiet focus.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em, Bo.” Korra upends one of the containers of water on his head, and he sputters. “Asami’s too pretty for you.”

“It’s not like that.” Bolin shakes the water from his eyes, but he is blushing harder than Korra has ever seen him do. “It never really is, no matter what Mako seems to thi—hey!” He ducks to avoid getting hit right between the eyes, and—instead of giving ground, as Korra had expected—he advances towards her. “She’s really into pro-bending—knows all the rules and the scores of every team that’s won for the past three years.”

“Sounds like we should’ve got her to join us instead of Korra,” Mako calls from the sidelines, and Korra whirls on him—“Hey!”—and promptly goes head-over-heels out of the ring when Bolin’s earthbending sends her flying.

“That is what we call distinctly _not fair,”_ Korra says, looking up at the ceiling of the training room and waiting for it to stop spinning. She can hear the others laughing. 

It’s Asami who leans over and helps Korra to her feet. Korra overbalances momentarily, still dizzy, and falls into her. “Oof, sorry about that—hey, you want to spar with me? If you love pro-bending so much you could probably teach me a thing or two. What are you, a firebender?”

Asami shrugs and holds out her hands, palm up. “Sorry, can’t help you there,” she says. “No bending.”

“Oh.” Korra shifts on her feet, awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to assume.”

Asami just smiles at her. “Don’t worry about it. Maybe I can still help you learn some of the more obscure rules some time.”

“She definitely needs the help,” Bolin says, giving a thumbs-up, and Korra punches him on the shoulder.

“That’d be great,” she tells Asami. “We can start now, even, just—let me go get cleaned up, or something, I have dirt in places it was never meant to be, thanks to a certain _someone.”_

“I think I’m done for the day, too,” Mako says, rising from where he’s been watching the three of them. He looks amused for some reason, which inexplicably irritates Korra; she hasn’t forgotten the way he’d acted earlier. She and Mako head towards the changing rooms where they can find their change of clothes. They’re silent all the way there, and it isn’t until Mako comes out, dressed and clean, and motions Korra in for her turn that she says anything.

“So,” she begins, conversationally. “What’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Yeah, sure. Then explain what’s up with all the yelling at Bolin today?”

“Nothing’s _up.”_ Mako scowls at her. “Nothing that you need to worry about.”

“We’re a team now, of course I worry about it.” Korra considers and then decides that she doesn’t have anything to lose by telling the truth. “We’re friends, Mako.”

Mako doesn’t look at her for a long moment. “It’s…not a big deal,” he finally begins, quietly. “It’s just that ever since Bolin was kidnapped, I’ve been more worried than ever about him. What if I—” He stops, turns red, and falls silent.

Korra’s throat is suddenly dry and painful. She wishes she knew what to say—she’s never known how to handle moments like this. “I know how you feel,” she says after a moment. “I mean—not really, of course, I haven’t lived my whole life the way you guys have had to, but….We’re gonna keep him safe, Mako. Nothing’s going to happen to him, I promise you.”

“You say that now.” But he smiles at her, gently. 

Yeah, they’ve definitely reached their awkwardness limit for the day. Feeling that at least she’s been of some comfort, Korra’s relieved to change the subject. “So, Asami seems really nice, doesn’t she? And I don’t know, no matter how much she talks about being in it for the sport, she seemed to be watching Bolin pretty closely, huh.”

Mako looks over to where Bolin and Asami are standing. A strange look crosses his face, and he glances back at Korra.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, innocently. “I don’t think it was Bolin she was looking at out there.”

Korra blinks at him. “I don’t….”

“You better go _freshen up,”_ Mako says, and he’s _grinning_ now, wickedly, too—“you’re keeping Asami waiting.” And he runs back to join his brother, leaving Korra sputtering and red in the face behind him.

There is no way, she tells herself as she changes into her extra set of clothes in the changing rooms. No way. Mako’s just messing with her. But when she goes back to join the others, she finds herself watching Asami more closely than before, and not just watching her— _noticing_ things about her, like the way she laughs, the quirk of her smile, the bright color of her eyes, to the point that she only hears about half the things Asami explains about pro-bending rules. 

Korra’s pretty sure she’s never going to be ready for the damn tournament at this rate. Asami is proving to be a much bigger distraction than anticipated.


End file.
